


shifting eyes and vacancy

by bimrambles



Series: only time [1]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mention of Death, Prompt Fill, Second Person Narration, Unrequited Crush, canon-divergent, jareds pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 15:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10856616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bimrambles/pseuds/bimrambles
Summary: jared buys gifts for evan, but pretends the gifts are just some junk he found in his room that he doesn't want anymore.





	shifting eyes and vacancy

**Author's Note:**

> prompt fill for anon on tumblrs
> 
> lmao yall thought this was going to be fluff but i sincerely apologize  
> also jared's thoughts dont sound like a dick here but thats because he has an auto filter between his brain and his mouth that asshole-ifies whatever he wants to say

"For two grand."

"Two-thousand dollars?"

"Five hundred."

"I can give you twenty."

"Fine, but you're a dick."

It all began when Evan spent more time in your house. It was getting harder to deny that you were ever friends with every Saturday spent in your dirty room as you forge more emails together until Evan was content. It was strictly business— you had only let him take your computer chair to get the whole Connor thing over with. It was when you realize that you were actually looking forward to the weekend had you only found it troublesome.

For instance, you did the honours of introducing Evan to his first ever drop of alcohol. You played video games when you had enough emails and there was nothing else to do. Soon enough, Evan would sleep over every other weekend— and until then, everything seemed fine.

But everything was _not_ fine.

“Uh... w-what’s this?” Evan looked at the small, pine tree shape in his hand.

“I hate it. Every time I hang it in my car, I just end up vomiting all over the place and transcend into another dimension of injury-inducing nausea.”

“Why are you giving it to me?”

“I don’t want to see it ever again. This is just me passing on the bad karma. Plus, it’s a tree, thought you’d appreciate it. Consider it a memorabilia of your awesome Jared Kleinman.”

“Thanks...? Well, I don’t really have a car to hang this in.”

“ _Evan_.”

“Okay, okay,” Evan chuckled, tying it to the back of his backpack. “Thanks.”

Everything was not fine, you see, because feelings are a thing, and Evan is a person, and you are an idiot.

So that was the first object you gave to him. You didn’t even know what made you want to give it to him in the first place. You promised yourself that that would be your only gift, just a little keepsake, but Evan’s smile when he tied it to his bag made you care less about promises and more about keeping that grin on his face. You wouldn’t dare to admit it, however, because feelings are for the oblivious and for the desperate. You're still a dick to him, admittedly, but that's just playing it safe.

It was your third night writing together when Evan found your MP3 player. It was a little beat up, may have already been submerged in water twice— but to your surprise, it still worked. You took this as an appropriate time to reminisce your past several years. You grew up an only child, and the house had always been far too quiet since your father left (something you and Evan have in common, except you always say “parents” instead of just “mom” out of habit), and music always helped you get by. You had never let anyone else touch it before, and having Evan hold it in his hands with earbuds in his ears felt too intimate for your own comfort.

“Wow, the songs here seem pretty cool.” Evan said as he took off the earphones that came with it.

“You can keep that garbage if you like it so much.” It slipped out of your mouth before you could take it back. You clenched your jaw and ultimately, your fist.

“What? No, I don’t—“

“I don’t really use that anymore. It’s cool.”

Evan clamped his mouth shut, pocketing it. The rest of the night went like it usually did, except there seemed to be more brushing of arms, skin to skin, than you could consider accidental. You didn’t say anything, but not because you didn’t mind— you did, you minded it a lot.

“It sounds like the kind of music Connor would listen to.” Evan laughed, like he _knew_ Connor. He didn't. You bit your cheek and nodded.

Hilariously, the junk you found in your room seemed more interesting than before. You discovered a crusty woven bracelet underneath the bed, twines of blue and green. Your room would get cleaner and cleaner each time Evan came to your house, as he always came home with at least one object of yours. You wondered just how much you’ve given away— and start to worry that you’re giving too much. But Evan seemed to be always willing to keep them anyways, so that must be okay, right?

You didn’t promise to yourself that it’s the last gift you would ever give to Evan, because between your ninth and tenth nights working on the letters (it was Wednesday, and you just got off school), you still somehow found yourself cruising along the aisles of some book shop, picking up different books, glancing over the price and putting them back in their places.

If there was one thing you learned from Literature class, it was that Evan loves reading. This wasn’t such a big shocker to you. He likes reading modern novels just as much as he’s an avid fan of the classics. You didn’t know which ones Evan would like to read next, but some books in the Young Adult Novels section caught your eye. It wasn’t until you were paying at the counter when you realized that you just _bought books_. Of the same-sex romance variety. And the fact that you initially came into the store to buy books for Evan was not making this situation any better. You gave the cashier a strained smile as you walk out of the store.

“A—are you reading?” Evan grazes his finger over a book you were reading recently, spine slightly worn out because you unexpectedly liked it more than you could care. There were a few more books by the side, and you start to regret buying them. Some of them were really good, and there were others that you would rather return because they were just absolutely horrid.

It’s a funny thing, really. You knew you were gay since you were seven, but you didn’t really feel the need to come out of the closet. You weren’t exactly subtle to begin with, but everybody would just shrug it off as you and your bad, offensive jokes— which at first, wasn’t all that terrible because you were in the closet after all, but now you found it a little disconcerting. Then Evan happened-- as you were supposed to buy him books fir some fucking reason as ridiculohs as falling in love with the man, you got too caught up and bought the gay ones for yourself. It’s a huge fucking shit show, so right now? You’d rather just die.

Evan began to rummage through the books on your desk, some still untouched, admitting that he rarely had the money to buy his own books. Two choices appeared in your head:

One, lend him the damn book and let him know that you’ve been reading gay material this entire time which would eventually lead him to suspect that you’re gay, which you undeniably are, or  
Two, not lend him the damn book and it just ends there. Evan feeling unappreciated, and you’re an ass who got no moves.

“I’ll let you borrow if you want to read it...?”

“Really?”

“Reading is for losers.” You nervously side eyed the growing collection on your makeshift book shelf. Evan knew you didn't really mean it. “Keep it if you want, I don’t really care.”

“No—no, I can’t—“

“Evan, it’ll be doing me a favour. Trust me.” It wasn't a lie.

“Well, okay. Hey, this seems like something Connor would read, doesn’t it?” Evan waved to your few copies of Shakespeare plays. You sensed the pattern and nearly threw up. You frowned, because _you_ were reading them, and you have been since Evan talked about Shakespeare’s _Julius Caesar_ in class.

Evan finished the book in a day and tried to return it to you, but you just shrugged it off and told him that you’d rather not let your parents— your mom see it.

Evan nodded.

The day after, you noticed the shimmer on the covers— Evan had wrapped it in plastic for protection. This must have been the fourth time he’s rereading it from cover to cover. You were staring when he glanced up and met your eye, only to continue reading. He was wearing that green bracelet, and earphones were hanging out of the knapsack that’s so deliberately decorated with the stupid fucking tree. You're not a man of detail-- you most often prefer to view the bigger picture, but the bigger picture is that you're hopelessly in love and you didn't like it— you didn't like how you felt about it.

The fallout had to happen eventually, you just knew it. It started when Evan talked about Connor more— loudly fantasizing about his fictitious relationship with a dead kid, and you were beginning to feel alienated. It was terrifying to watch Evan cope with his many unspoken problems by burying himself deeper and deeper into this lie until he couldn’t tell himself the truth anymore. You could’ve helped him, but Evan looked like he was enjoying pretending to be with Connor than anything else.

And you weren’t Connor. You couldn’t be the Connor that Evan wanted.

It was Thursday when you sent Evan the draft of the letter— one where Connor invited you in the oh-so awesome and totally real friendship— out of spite. You didn’t know why you did it; maybe you had too much to drink that night. Evan argues with you, you might have yelled at him, and he goes offline before you could continue talking. He didn’t seem to be interested in hanging out with you during lunch time, and it looked like he was trying to avoid you all period. Fine, two can play at that game. Feelings are for the oblivious and the desperate. But you’re not oblivious, and obviously not desperate, because you know that Evan hates you. He hates you, and he’s an asshole, and you’re never going to be good enough to be worth his time.

Alana was having a conversation with Evan. You were waiting for her to leave— and she eventually did. You approached to greet him, despite all odds.

“Hey, so my parents are out of town this weekend, and their liquor cabinet hasn’t been used since like, Rosh Hashanah 1997, so we can drink _whatever_ we want.”

“Y—yeah I can’t this weekend, I have seventeen thousand dollars to raise. You remember the Connor Project? We were supposed to be working on this.”

“Uh, you told me you didn’t need my help?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t tell you to do nothing! Look, I know you probably think this is all a big joke, but this is _important_.”

“...For Connor.”

“Yup.” He tried to walk away after that, but you kept talking and kept him in place.

“You know, if you really start to think about it— Connor being dead, that’s pretty much the best thing that’s ever happened to you, isn’t it?”

“That’s a horrible thing to say!”

“No, no, think about it, if Connor hadn’t died, nobody would know who you are. I mean, people at school actually _talk_ to you. You’re almost popular, which is— wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles!”

“Look, I don’t care about any of that— I don’t care, I just want to help—”

“Help the Murphy’s. Yeah, I know. You keep saying that.”

Evan was about to open his mouth when Zoe walked over to Evan, greeting him before pulling him into a short kiss. You had vomit rise up to the back of the throat, but you tried your best to push it down as they pull away.

“Look at you, helping the Murphy’s.” You spat out and left the scene. You didn’t have to look back to know that Evan didn’t even turn to see where you were headed. You didn’t have to look back to know that they just walked away from you, because feelings are stupid. Feelings were for the oblivious and for the desperate, and you couldn’t believe that you had the audacity to let yourself slip like that.

And it ended slowly.

Evan stopped visiting.

He left your book on your desk (forgetting to take his bookmark out).

He didn’t wear the bracelet to school anymore (it's at the bottom of his bag).

Your music player miraculously made its way into your room (Evan stopped by to return it while you were out).

You caught him toss the pine tree to the back of his locker (never to be touched again).

Everything was fine, because feelings were for the oblivious and for the desperate, and you’re neither of those things. In fact, if you were asked to list one thing that Evan likes, you wouldn’t know what to say. You never knew him, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is @bimnoodles hmu for some trash <3


End file.
